


Breathe

by jumbi



Series: Filling the Void [10]
Category: Super Paper Mario (Game)
Genre: Gen, Mental Health Issues, mindfulness, pregame, the first emotion that comes back is usually 'angery'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 17:23:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19114300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumbi/pseuds/jumbi
Summary: after failing to save his teammates during a tense situation, the count falls in another bad mood. o'chunks and nastasia try to get him to learn to calm himself down.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> this short scene takes place in my larger comic story "filling the void". it takes place between scenes 64 (in which the count is left to his own devices for a few minutes while o'chunks and nastasia talk about philosophy) and 65 (in which the gang upgrades their inter-world web maps).

Even with her glasses on, it was hard for Nastasia to be subtle about checking on the Count. He wasn’t paying much attention to the two of them, anyhow, but she didn’t dare risk anything that would push him over the edge. O’Chunks carefully kept his eye on Nastasia, even when the Count paced around out of her range of vision.

“He’s, um, not going to last much longer at this rate,” Nastasia forced her voice lower. They didn’t really have any privacy in the open cave, and if O’Chunks could hear her, then the Count could. But she needed to know the plan. To have a plan. “So we’ve got to act soon. ‘K?”

O’Chunks’ eye flicked up toward the ceiling for a moment. He tugged at his beard. “Methinks I’ve got something we can try, now that ‘e’s awake,” he muttered, his voice a low rumble even as he struggled to whisper.

The Count circled back around behind O’Chunks where Nastasia could see him. His ear wasn’t turned their way, she noted. He was lost in his own thoughts. She didn’t allow herself a moment to sigh in relief. She simply nodded her chin in the Count’s direction. O’Chunks scratched at his beard idly and sauntered over to intercept the Count. Or, he tried to. Nastasia could see the stiffness in his steps.

“Hey, eh, Count…” O’Chunks started.

The Count stopped and stared at him. Nastasia wasn’t sure if he recognized O’Chunks, from the anger and confusion etched into his expression. “Y… Wh… What,” the Count stuttered. Nastasia winced behind her glasses. It was so hard to tell when he would hit his threshold. He’d been getting worked up and burning out in shorter and shorter cycles, the last few days. Did they even catch him in time, or would it have to wait until tomorrow?

O’Chunks held up his hands, slowly. “I noticed yeh seem t’be havin’ some difficulty.” He did an admirable job of keeping his voice low and level. Nastasia briskly marched over to the two of them, folding her hands behind her back to hide her hand-wringing.

The Count simply narrowed his eyes.

“I know yer stressed,” O’Chunks continued. “I might be able t’help yeh… Would yeh like teh try somethin’ out with me?”

The Count was squinting now, as if he was having trouble staying focused on O’Chunks. Something deep in Nastasia’s core ached.

“… Wh… at… are you sp… t-talk, ing, about…?”

O’Chunks briefly pursed his lips before he spoke. “Have yeh ever tried t’control yer breathing? Breathing exercises?”

The Count blinked and straightened, though his expression didn’t change. “Wh…”

When he didn’t finish his thought, O’Chunks took a deep breath. Nastasia held stock-still. “Count, yeh haf’ta learn t’calm yerself down. Nassy an’ I cannae keep watchin’ yeh fizzle out like this.”

The Count’s eyes flickered to Nastasia, who nodded curtly.

“If yeh cannae hold yerself together, we haf’ta go back teh avoidin’ the weirder towns and their folk.”

The Count made a tiny noise of displeasure. “B-but… th… s… supplies…?” The book hovered just behind his shoulder, wobbling every few seconds.

O’Chunks shook his head. “Safety first.” He hesitated. “… We depend on  _you_  fer tha’.”

Nastasia’s mouth twisted to the side. “It’s up to you. Yeah…” Before she could continue, O’Chunks nudged her ankle with his own. She straightened.

The Count stood back against the wall, uncertain. Nastasia hadn’t noticed he’d been puffed up until the fluff on his head started, ever so slowly, to settle back down. “H-how… to… Why…?”

“Panicking hits yeh harder’n vintage gouda,” O’Chunks explained. “We need teh get tha’ under control at least.”

The Count blinked at his turn of phrase, but let it go. His bad ear fell back. “Wh… at, is, p-panicking?”

Well, that was a new one. Nastasia’s head tilted just slightly and she caught O’Chunks reach to scratch his head before suppressing the gesture. She eyed him, waiting to see if he’d catch her gaze, but she was standing on his blind side. So she waited.

“It’s, uh, like when yeh start feelin’…” He turned his head to the side and back. “Outta control? I guess, fer yeh, it would be like when yeh start feelin’ all turned around in yer head. When yeh get too scared.”

The Count’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Too accusatory.

“What…  _does_  it feel like, when you, um, start feeling like that?” she ventured.

“… Feels…” The Count struggled for a moment. “I-it feels… as though… Count Bleck is… is l-lost in a… in fog. He becomes…”

O’Chunks and Nastasia glanced at each other. Even that sentence seemed to exhaust the Count, and he reached for his book.

“ _Count Bleck is weak and tired. The world is too fast for the slow, feeble Count Bleck. Only with the support of the Prognosticus may he truly participate,_ ” he hissed.  

O’Chunks frowned. “Methinks I can wrap me head ‘round tha’… Soldiers can feel tha’ way, now an’ then, on the battlefield. After th’battle, they can get… hazy, an’ confused.”

The Count was drifting off. They were getting too sidetracked. “So, yeah, we should get started,” Nastasia said. She shifted her weight. The Count hadn’t looked up from his book yet. “Count? Are you ready?”

The book lowered. He blinked. “Ready… for…?”

“Th’exercises, Count.”

“If… w-we must.” He grimaced.

It took several minutes to get the Count farther away from the wall and arranged into a circle with them. Or, Nastasia supposed, a lopsided triangle. Her hopes for O’Chunks’ solution were dwindling with the Count’s patience. O’Chunks outlined each step with careful, slow motions, and then he had them get started. She was supposed to have her eyes closed, but she couldn’t help but watch the Count’s brows furrow with every breath O’Chunks led him through. She bit her lip. The other two wouldn’t notice. Her thoughts swirled together in disorganized clumps over O’Chunks’ low murmuring.

She couldn’t take it anymore. “Um, Count… Is everything going alright over there?”

His fangs drew up in a silent snarl. “Th… is, is not… w-working…” He fidgeted. She sighed when he grabbed at his book and opened his eyes. “ _The exercise would be futile. It will not work. It will never work. Nothing but the Prognosticus could help the pathetic Count Bleck._ ” It rose in front of him as he dropped his head into his hands and she lost sight of him.

O’Chunks paused. Then he reached out with a long arm and gently shooed the book off to the side. “There’re still some other things we can try, Count. This is only one way to do it.”

“ _Perhaps the general is deaf as well as blind._ ”

“Not yet,” O’Chunks grinned. “I know yeh may not notice it at first, but this kind of thing takes practice, buddy.”

The Count twitched his fingers open to glare at him with baleful eye. Nastasia tilted her head back and pretended it was to stretch her shoulders. It was too risky to clown around with nicknames. Luckily, he cleared his throat after a moment and continued.

“Yeh gotta make it a habit. Then it’ll help more, yeah?”

The Count didn’t respond.

“Yeah, so, we could do this more if you wanted. Add it to the schedule. ‘K?”

He let his hands drop and turned his head away. “… No…”

“What are you so worried about, Count?” Nastasia pressed.

The Count frowned. It was a long time before he responded. They waited in silence. “How could… How… Wh-why would Count Bleck st-stop, and close h-his eyes… and wait… while i-in t, in danger? H-how could it help, wh-when it m… when it n-needs to? How could s-some, thing, so small and strange… affect this…?”

O’Chunks frowned thoughtfully, leaning forward. Even Nastasia needed a minute to parse that.

“Wh, why would Count Bleck s-stand there, and… d-do nothing? Count Bleck does… e-enough of n-nothing, already…”

She looked up at him. He seemed like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands; instead of sitting statue-like, he was clenching and unclenching his fists. They probably didn’t have much longer, now, as hard as he was working to stay awake for them.

“Maybe…” She paused. The Count glanced in her direction, eyes bleary. “Um, well, something my supervisor did in the colony… She would just count to ten. Slowly. To get her head out of the emotion.” She twisted her fingers together. “It was, y’know, an important skill, around my coworkers…”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Th… That still… r-requires…”

“It dinnae haf’ta help then,” O’Chunks said. “It jus’ has teh help now, Count. Jus’ do it when yer safe.”

“Just, you could practice right now, while we’re here… ‘K?”

“Very… well…” He shifted his weight and closed his eyes. Soon he was frowning again.

“Don’t hold yer breath,” O’Chunks reminded him. The Count huffed.

The two of them waited a moment, but he didn’t open his eyes. It would be easy to mistake his expression as simply troubled sleep, after too long…

Nastasia frowned. She looked up at O’Chunks. He was resting his arms in his lap, watching the Count’s book sink to the ground. She nudged him.

“Yeah, so… I’ve never seen you do anything like this,” she muttered. O’Chunks flinched.

“Ehh, well, yeh know…” He rubbed his head. “I already have lots o’combat experience, I jus’ don’t need it much nowadays…” Nastasia stared at him and he crumbled.

“It dinnae help me much,” he whispered. “But it can help some people.”

She returned her attention to the Count. It was too hard to tell if he was awake, or asleep, or… She set her mouth in a thin line. “If it helps at all, even once, it was worth it.”

“I know, Nassy,” he said. “I know.”


End file.
